In the Devil's back yard

HOBART, Tasmania _ We knew two things about the Australian island of Tasmania before landing here. It is the finish line for the Sydney-Hobart sailing race. And it is the home of the devil.

A third thing struck us our first evening there, eating seafood at the Mure Upper Deck restaurant in the rain: Have we travelled to the far side of the world from Norway to get to Skagen, Denmark? The feeling was uncannily like a Danish port village.

We'd been in doubt about Tasmania, because the weather forecast, rainy and cool, sounded a bit too much like summer in Scandinavia. But we went for it.

And Hobart felt good. It fit, like a favorite old shoe.

Speaking of old shoes. Doug's beloved old sandals were laid to eternal rest in Hobart due to terminal odor. Eva had refused to allow them indoors anymore unless they were sealed in plastic. Doug tried various ploys, including washing them and hiding them, but knew the jig was up when Eva found a new pair of sandals on sale. So, farewell old friends. You survived being stolen by jackals in Namibia, but could not get past The Nose.

D&E needed a day off from sightseeing, so we just hung around the quaint streets of Hobart. The next day, we went kayaking around the harbor, even eating fish and chips while afloat, something that appears to be something of a local tradition. (They have floating take-out restaurants).

We got back into tourist mode with a full day tour of Port Arthur. Well worth it. In the morning, we cruised the waters of Tasmania, checking out wildlife, including seals, penguins, dolphins, as well as staggering scenery, and stunning cliffs that seemed to burst from the sea. We even went into water filled caves. The afternoon was spent at Port Arther, a prison compound for the hardest English and Irish convicts from about 1830 until 1877. The whole compound, with houses,prisons, churches and all was fascinating, but the greatest impression were the tiny cells, measuring 1.3 meters by 2.10 meters (4X7 feet), and the tiny stalls in the church where convicts were forced to stand for sermons, with the preacher able to see them while the convicts could not see each other.

We picked up our rental car and Doug was delighted that Avis upgraded them to a high-performance, high-powered Ford Falcon XR6. The car led to whoops – of joy or terror, depending which seat you were in. But enough on that. We're back on speaking terms.

Eva continued finding the coolest places to stay as we headed up the east coast. In Richmond, she found a vineyard that rented out suites. It was memorable (the plush red curtains, green ceiling, four-poster bed and own garden). We enjoyed this old and vaguely royal suite so much that we decreed that dinner would be taken in our chambers.

A bit father up the coast, we rented a cabin near Swansea. It also had its own yard, so we put bought shellfish for dinner and gorged ourselves out in the garden.

And then there was Wineglass Bay, in Freycinet National Park. That steep and tough 2.5 hour walks, with maybe 700 steps up and then 700 down, exposed two things: 1) D&E's physical condition is slightly less than optimal, 2) We showed a lack of and judgement not only by forgetting to bring wine and glasses to Wineglass Bay, but also by running short of water. Half of the D&E team did enter the frigid water for a swim. Guess which one?

We loved Tassie, but were quite stunned by the amount of road kill of wildlife. We may have seen a Tasmania Devil but – if so – it was only as a black patch of fur on the road.

Thank you Tasmania!

Bruce and Sheila